Reunion of Sorts
by bracken
Summary: James/Misty Set 7 years in the future, James runs into Misty and sets out to lure her to him in a plot of blackmail and intrigue. Incl Brock, Jessie and Ash
1. Prologue

A/N: This is a rather different story, less to do with Pokemon and more to do with the characters in a plot ruled by blackmail, sex and one-upmanship. Hope you al like it. . . Only FEEDBACK and REVIEWS will spur me into completing chapter one.  
  
Please note: This is not standard Pokemon fanfiction. It is set seven years in the future. Ash is a great Pokemon Master and works for the League. Misty is a Water Master and Broc a renowned pokemon breeder. The trio has been split up for seven years. James and Jessie no longer work under Giovanni for Team Rocket. They are still together but work as assassins for hire.   
  
*All thoughts are displayed in bold Italics*  
  
WARNING: This fic may contain scenes of graphic violence, sex and inappropriate language.  
  
  
  
PROLOGUE  
  
James had heard Jessie arrive at the mansion earlier and since she hadn't sought him out yet, he went looking for her. He was curious as to whether she had succeeded in what she'd what she'd set out to. The elevator chimed at the third floor and James stepped out and turned in the direction of the West wing - designated Jessie's space. He knocked politely on her bedroom door, thought he really didn't have to, and pushed the door open and stepped in.   
  
On the bed a young blond man was handcuffed, eagle-spread. Jessie had divested him of everything but a pair of boxers and a red gag. Even at this distance James' discerning eye could tell the crimson material was an expensive silk. Creative . . . James mused. The captive man glanced at James uneasily; unsure of whether James was a savior or a villain. Just then Jessie emerged from the en-suite bathroom.  
  
"Still playing with your prey, Jessie". It was more a statement than a question. James was accustomed to Jessie's habits. The blond man closed his eyes in resignation; he was obviously going to get no help from that guy. Jessie shrugged. "He's cute. Waste not - want not, James." she said lightly.  
  
"Jessie," said James chidingly, a hand on her shoulder, "Interrogating and shagging are not the same thing." He paused thoughtfully, "Except that they're both terrifying where you're concerned."  
"Very funny James," said Jessie coyly, "But I don't recall you saying that when I was um, interrogating you last night." She walked past him.  
James turned with a wry smile, "If I recall correctly," he said dryly, "My mouth was unfairly pre-occupied."  
  
He saw Jessie smile slightly at the memory. She was toying with a wicked-looking, small, black, leather whip. Understanding her intent, James almost felt sorry for her captive. Almost. Because it was his philosophy that their needs came before anyone else's, and if this was what Jessie wanted . . . well, who was he to stop her?   
  
Having had some first - hand knowledge as to what was going to happen next, James decided on a timeous retreat. At the door he paused and looked over his shoulder, green eyes glinting with merriment, "You kids play nice now," he said and, laughing softly under his breath, he shut the door softly behind him.  
  
Walking down the endless corridor to his wing of the house, James smilingly gave silent thanks that the rooms were soundproof. He wasn't in the mood for a serenade of screams this evening.  
  
***  
  
James, still slightly damp from the shower and clad in only a fluffy white towel, reclined lazily on his chaise lounge with the evening paper. He impatiently flicked wisps of his hair out his eyes as he found his interest piqued by the headline; something about a pokemon expo in which Master trainers would show their rarest pokemon to the crowds, which consisted mostly of aspiring trainers.  
  
Pokemon . . . he was revisited by memories of days spent plotting to capture a bunch of twerps' Pikachu. Jessie and he had given up seven years ago when they'd quit Team Rocket. Something that James still considered one of the best things they'd ever done. At least they were able to ditch those ghastly uniforms and develope their own style (of which he had plenty).   
  
Still reminiscing, James idly wondered what had become of those brats. The ambitious twerps were probably eaten by wild pokemon. He thought, remembering all the close calls he'd had with dangerous pokemon. Not that he and Jessie had abandoned their pokemon. On the contrary, they still had their first pokemon and had acquired a few more, only to finally stop collecting when they had caught their favourite pokemon. Both having discovered an affinity for fire; Jessie's pride was a Charizard while James rode the breath-takingly fast Rapidash.  
  
Not that they used pokemon all that much in their new profession. After leaving Team Rocket both he and Jessie had worked hard to acquire black belts in karate, in fact, they were both adept in most martial arts. And though they were both excellent shots, having snipers' eyes, they both found that they weren't excessively fond of guns. Jessie preferred her precisely strung black crossbow while James' favoured weapons was a set of custom - styled silver throwing daggers that were deeply engraved with an inferno of flames. James particularly enjoyed watching blood run in the engravings, the vibrant colour bringing the flames to life on the dark silver.   
  
James drew himself out of his reverie over his knives. The past was powerfully alluring that night and so he made a spontaneous decision and began dressing. A half-hour later he taped a note to his door for his partner.  
  
  
If you need me, call my mobile.   
I've gone downtown for the Pokemon  
Expo.  
JAMES.   
  
  
***  
  
As with most exhibitionists, James didn't like lurking. However, he was forced to slip into the shadows surrounding the outdoor expo - just for a short while. James was leery of being recognised by one particular Master trainer seeing as he and the trainer had had a somewhat colourful encounter in the past.   
  
Walking in the empty darkness not penetrated by the Arena spotlights, James observed what a still night it was. The sounds from the expo filtered through the warm air in muffled dreamlike waves. He relished the feeling of being alone, his feet softly crushing the dew-wet grass and the looming full moon reflecting in his emerald eyes. It was like a warped, safer version of reality. Perfect, until he walked straight into someone and sent them both crashing to the ground.  
  
***  
  
With all his training, James' cat-like reflexes kicked in. He managed to freeze his entire frame, supporting himself on his toes and his fingertips. James indulged in a second of triumph at his quick save but when he looked down into wide blue eyes he instantly regretted it. All he had succeeded in doing was stopping himself from full contact with a gorgeous example of the feminine form. Tragic James. He thought. Once again cruelly cheated by Fate - the Bastard! He was still holding her gaze, and as the moment drew out she lowered her eyes. James took one look at her ludicrously long lashes and rolled his eyes: Was this chick for real? She certainly didn't look it.  
  
"Ummm. I, ummm, I think we should get up now." His thoughts were interrupted by a breathless whisper.  
"You really think that's in our best interests?" He whispered back with a smirk. Why are we whispering anyway? He wondered.  
The mystery lady tried to sit up slightly, evidently, she was not charmed enough to lay on the ground under a perfect stranger. James wondered if maybe he was losing his touch. Mental note: Go home and practice smirking in front of the mirror.   
  
He reluctantly began to back off from hovering over her, but, as she tried to move her legs out from under him, she mistakenly tripped him up. There was a small cry of surprise from her as James was sent sprawling onto her, his face conveniently landing on her chest. He could feel her heart racing, though whether from fear or excitement he couldn't be sure. She moved slightly and James was made pleasurably aware that almost every part of her body was in contact with almost every part of his. Thank you Fate, old pal, - I take it all back.  
  
Under his left arm James could feel the unmistakable shape of the many pokeballs that she had round her waist. So this little mite is a collector/trainer, who'd have guessed? James, who enjoyed the thrill of anything illegal, could not resist taking a momento of this evening's literal run-in. So he snaked a nimble hand under her cloak and deftly removed a pokeball. Before he stood again he'd already slipped the ball into his coat.   
  
James bent and extended a hand to the lady (who on closer inspection was only a girl) and offered to help her up. She accepted graciously and as he tugged her up he saw her inspect him closely. When it came to women, this was something that always put James in a quandary. It was simply because he never could tell if it was because they were appreciating his good looks (as they well should), or if they'd recognised him as an outlaw. James felt uncomfortable but eventually she realized she was staring and averted her gaze, blushing.   
  
James decided he probably should be the gentleman and apologise first - even it was her fault, but seeing as he was as far away from scruples as one could get, (without being Jessie), he decided to take another course of action.  
  
"It's okay," he said graciously, "I forgive you." The previously demure head snapped up. "What?" she demanded. There was a stormy look in her blue eyes. The cowl of the cloak slipped back revealing crimson ripples. Ah, thought James, the plot thickens. He knew as well as anyone about the legendary redhead temper. He also knew about their sex - appeal, especially when they were angry.  
  
Well, James was well versed in being infuriating. All the more if the reward was watching a fiery temper explode. He flashed her what he considered his trademark grin. (At least he hoped the animators had it trademarked).  
  
"Well, who ran into who?" he goaded, "And who tripped who, hmm?" He winked at her conspiratorially. Red's (his mind was constantly doling out nicknames) eyes grew large in disbelief at his gall. She began to splutter in anger. Here it comes, he thought. He grinned widely.   
  
But before anything really interesting could happen Red was distracted by a large burst of applause from somewhere in the expo. All too quickly she seemed to remember where she was. James watched as she composed herself, not looking at him once. Finally, she raised her head and looked him in the eye.   
  
"You are one of the most arrogant people in the world!" she hissed at him. James was amazed that a person so tiny could manage to look down her nose at him. She barely reached his chin!  
"You being the other one, Red?" James watched in delight as she ground her teeth, clenched her fists and turning, stalked off into the night. Pity that those cloaks envelope so much, James thought, as he turned in the opposite direction and made his way home.  
  
* * *   
  
In his black corvette, James' long fingers drummed on the steering wheel in time to Bon Jovi. Abruptly, he remembered the pokeball. His left hand on the wheel, he searched his coat pocket, looking for his prize. Upon finding it, James noticed nothing unusual, but when he drove the convertible under a street-lamp, the orb shone a brilliant metallic blue.  
  
James was surprised, this meant that this was a Water Master's pokeberry and that probably meant that the puny girl was-  
  
There was a sudden scream. James looked up in time to swerve away from the stereotypical little old lady, who was pushing her shopping cart across the road. Ugh, thought James, pensioners! We should lock them all away. The pokeball was still in his hand and under his thumb a section of the surface felt curiously rough. He turned the ball, looked down, and blinked in the darkness at what was engraved on it: Mysteria. James had a flash of recognition and his eyes widened in surprise.  
  
***  
  
James had floored it all the way home. Not bothered with the garage, he parked the vette beside the fountain and jogged up the front steps. In his haste he completely forgot the existence of the elevator and began to run up three flights of stairs, yelling for Jessie from stair one.   
  
When he finally stood panting before her room, she still hadn't answered.   
"Jessie!" he yelled, walking straight in. Jessie, and her not-quite-captive captive, looked up from the bed, flushed.   
  
"James dear," she scolded almost maternally, as though this happened often, "can't you see I'm busy?"  
"But Jessie," said James desperately, trying to justify himself before she kicked him out, "This is important."  
"How important?"  
"It might be fun." he said. To James & Jessie important and fun was the same thing.  
"Fun for you or fun for me?" Jessie asked suspiciously.  
"Both." Said James temptingly, "If you decide to join in."  
  
Jessie's eyes narrowed contemplatively. Finally she snatched up her robe and got off the bed. Her "hostage" began blubbering in protest. She ignored him and sauntered up to James.   
  
"So, what do you have in mind?" she asked throatily. James smiled knowingly at the change in her voice. "Oh," he said casually, "Just a little reunion of sorts . . ."   
  
***  



	2. Chapter one

Pairing : Many people want to know if this is an Ash/Misty. No, it is not. It's primarily a James/Misty fic with hints at a past relationship between Ash/Misty that left them friends  
  
DISTRIBUTION: Any archives "Yes!" Others please ask, I'll say yes but   
I'd like the URL.  
  
DISCLAIMER: Don't own them, am not affiliated with them, though if they ever want to give James away I'd be more than willing to take him in . . .  
  
AUTHOR'S NOTES: Please don't flame because this is not A/M fic. I wanted to try this pairing.  
  
FEEDBACK: Oh, please? It keeps the muse happy.  
  
DEDICATION: To Laura, who's suffering from writers' block, poor thing!  
  
Please note: This is not standard Pokemon fanfiction. It is set seven years in the future. Ash is a great Pokemon Master and works for the League. Misty is a Water Master and Broc a renowned pokemon breeder. The trio has been split up for seven years. James and Jessie no longer work under Giovanni for Team Rocket. They are still together but work as assassins for hire.   
  
*All thoughts are displayed in bold Italics*  
  
WARNING: This fic may contain scenes of graphic violence, sex and inappropriate language.  
  
  
CHAPTER ONE  
  
She'd been pacing for twenty minutes. Once her anger at herself had boiled over, all she was left with was a haunting sense of responsibility. Her gyradose was known through out the league guild as the best-trained and most powerful water pokemon to have surfaced in decades. The thought of it lost, or worse yet, fallen into the wrong hands, had caused her endless grief since she returned from the pokemon expo earlier that evening.  
  
Seething, Mysteria sat down with paper and pen and began composing. After many rough drafts she got out her credit card, picked the receiver off the cradle, and dialed the classifieds.  
  
* * *  
  
"Damn it all!" said the youthful voice. The moonlight barely reached the alley where he was standing and conversing with his partner.   
"I'm sorry it didn't work," the other replied, "He wasn't supposed to be able to handle the car that well." The deep voice was shockingly incongruous with the silhouette of an old woman and her cart.   
  
"Yeah," the young voice answered, "I guess we have to do more research before we try again. I just don't like losing. I'm used to being the best."  
"No sweat, amigo, you're still the best. Tell you what, I'm heading back to base to change outta this ridiculous get-up before someone offers to help me cross the street. Coming?"  
"Nah, go on without me, I'm going for a walk."  
"Fine, see ya." the form of an old lady swaggering actively down the street made quite a few people frown in confusion.   
  
Back in the alley, finally alone, Ash swore to get to James and Jessie. The rest of his mission depended on it.  
  
* * *  
  
The next morning James was woken entirely too early for the liking of a devout sybarite such as himself. His perfect dreamworld was ruptured by the insistent ringing of his bedside telephone. James, eyes still shut, reached blindly out to knock it off the cradle. Anything to stop the ringing. He lurched, misbalanced, and found himself in a tangle of bed linen on the floor. His eyes were still closed and, in denial of his position, he refused to open them and give smirking reality the upper hand.  
  
The phone stopped and James breathed a sigh of relief. But then, like some awful conspiring of the fates, his mobile began its shrill soprano from a long forgotten piece of clothing he'd worn last night. He got up, tripped over everything from the sheets around his ankles, random furniture and his own feet and finally, he found the phone.  
  
"Yes?" he mumbled grouchily.  
"James?" it was Jessie, "It's about time you woke up!" she snapped, "I have something of interest to you."  
"But Jess," whined James, hardly up to going out, "Where are you?"  
"Downstairs." Jessica said simply.  
James entire demeanor changed. "You're downstairs?" he asked coolly. "You phoned me from in the house and woke me over something that could have probably waited?"   
  
Jessie could hear he was grinding his teeth. She cringed; this was not going to be an easy morning. James could be as difficult as she could, though not as prone to violence. "But James . . ." she started. He cut her off. "I'll come down when I'm ready to." he said darkly, and hung up. Then James restored his dignity and his blankets to their rightful place and climbed back into bed.  
  
* * *   
  
He went down at midday, much refreshed but not having forgiven Jessie her earlier interruption. His heart was set on sulking, but unfortunately Jessie knew him too well and had anticipated this standoffish behavior.   
  
In the sunroom, James's breakfast was laid out, something he usually did himself. Jessie had done all this herself in a silent attempt to make-up, as trusting any domestic employee would have been too hazardous to consider. Smirking, she lastly included the morning paper, opened on the classifieds.  
  
Ten minutes later James came running into the gym, where Jessie was enjoying beating the, uh, *dust* out of the punching bag. She stopped upon hearing his exuberant entrance and, smilingly, she raised an eyebrow and inquired exactly *what* was so exciting, though she knew full well.  
  
"She's in the paper! She's in the paper!" He exclaimed, waving the classifieds frantically in the air. He cleared his throat officiously and began to read:  
"Lost.  
One metallic blue Pokeball gone missing  
at yesterday's Pokemon expo. If found  
please do not open, ball contains one   
hostile gyradose, treat with extreme caution.  
Owner established Water-Pokemon Master.  
Reward offered. Call 085 3306947 A.S.A.P."   
  
James was ecstatic, half his work had been done for him. "Jessie!" He squealed, "I don't have to track her down, the stupid little girl left her contact number!" Jessie, who was now feeling fully included and considering this her project as well (if not even her idea), made a valuable contribution to the plot. "James, my lanky bundle of exuberance, before you contact her, we should get the blackmail and bait in order, don't you think? After all, an out & out kidnap and holding would be *so* much more work."  
  
* * *  
James blew into his hands and rubbed them together. He grinned at the telephone. Behind him Jessie rolled her eyes, "It's just a phone call, James."   
"But it's a *special* phone call Jessie!"  
"Why? It's no-one important, just a little member of Team Twerp."  
"Yes, well . . ." James turned away, but not before Jessie caught sight of the tell-tale blush staining his cheeks.  
No, thought Jessie, not a crush. Her eyes narrowed calculatingly.   
"Why James, you dawg!" she drawled. "Who'd have thought. You and suspender-girl!"  
"There wasn't anything between us…" James hastily said.   
"But you had a thing for the pony-tailed wonder?" needled Jessie.  
"Perhaps . . ."James conceded. He lifted the phone and dialed the number. James didn't bother with a voice synthesizer and he knew theirs was an untraceable line. He dialed the number.   
  
"Hello?" The voice was quiet, exhausted filled with worry. It sounded as though she had been crying. Despite this all, James could recognize the voice of the girl who had been in voice of the woman who was.  
  
"I have it." He said, by way of mysterious introduction.  
  
"What?" Misty, after receiving so many false alarms, struggled to believe it.  
  
"Your Pokeball."  
  
Though the person wasn't speaking much, Misty found the voice hazily familiar. "How do I know for sure?" countered Misty.  
  
"Your name," the voice drawled, "You didn't mention in the paper your name was engraved on it, but it is" The person sounded self-assured and very confident to Misty. Almost too confident . . .  
  
"You're right." She agreed, and proceeded to assure the person that they would receive a large reward. Whoever it was didn't seem overly enthusiastic and that in itself was very suspicious.  
  
'I don't want your money." He cut in, "I take my rewards differently. Meet me at the scarlet café at 9pm tonight. Wear red." And the line went dead.   
  
Misty was shaken by the uncompromising stranger.  
  
Meanwhile, back at the estate, James was congratulating himself. She'd show up, she'd wear red like he wanted her to, and after tonight, she'd do anything he told her. James smiled, sometimes his genius surprised himself.   



End file.
